


Mortem Obire

by Petrichor_Amber



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, He comes right back don't worry, Sacrifice, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-19 13:47:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2390588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petrichor_Amber/pseuds/Petrichor_Amber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean coughs and they both get sucked back out of their thoughts, try and offer him pillows and water until – “Son of a bitch! Will you two stop it? If you don’t stop fussing like old church ladies I’m just going to call it right now!” Sam looks like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or punch him in the face. Cas just looks confused. </p>
<p>“Please don’t do that,” he whispers, and his voice is so quiet, so filled with longing, that both brothers are taken aback.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mortem Obire

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so this does have MCD but it's temporary, I mean, its SPN! So please don't freak out. I learned the etymology of this beautiful expression last week and knew I had to play with it. One thing led to another and I basically made myself sad. And now I'm offering you that same opportunity!
> 
> Special thanks to my beta dangerousnotbroken, even though she texted me "I just basically hate you so much right now" while reading this.

They arrive at the motel before Dean can even blink his eyes, and then Cas is setting him down gently on the bed, trying to move him as little as possible. He looks at Dean, who tries to nod through a grimace to assure him that he did a good job, that he’s reasonably comfortable. Cas suddenly feels Sam’s fingers gently touch his shoulder, and he turns around surprised. For a second he had forgotten that Sam was there, that he had brought him back as well. Sam offers Cas a chair he’s brought over to the bed, and Cas takes it, sitting by Dean’s side like they’re at a hospital. Sam sits at the foot of the bed, avoiding Dean’s legs even though he knows it won’t make a difference, not now. But that’s not the point.

Dean coughs and they both get sucked back out of their thoughts, try and offer him pillows and water until – “Son of a bitch! Will you two stop it? If you don’t stop fussing like old church ladies I’m just going to call it right now!” Sam looks like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or punch him in the face. Cas just looks confused. 

“Please don’t do that,” he whispers, and his voice is so quiet, so filled with longing, that both brothers are taken aback. 

Sam has suspected for some time that Cas, well, that there was something different between Dean and Cas, than between him and Cas. If this really was – no, Sam, just shut up, shut your stupid face, don’t even. But he figures he could use the air anyway, so he steps back, looking Dean square in the eyes says “Damnit Dean, I’m just gonna go outside for a minute, try not to do anything stupid.”

Dean winces as he looks up, “No promises Big Foot.” Cas looks up at Sam with something, hesitation maybe, in his eyes, and Sam just nods, and says more quietly, “I’ll be right outside if – if you need me.” And Cas looks down, then back towards Dean, and Sam knows that he was right. It’s the worst I told you so ever.

As the door shuts behind him Dean looks up at Cas’ terrified face, and sees an angel of the Lord trembling, staring at him, willing him to fight this. He wishes he could, he wishes he could say “it’s alright” and mean it. He says it anyway, but knows instantly that Cas doesn’t believe him. They stay like that for a minute, before Dean just decides to be honest with him, and try to show Cas that it’s ok. 

“Well, I think I’m officially off-shift. Time for one last roadtrip.” He tries to say it casually, like they’re talking about just driving up state, but that doesn’t quite happen due to a violent coughing fit and Cas having to lean him forward so he doesn’t choke on the blood and spit that sputter out of his mouth. 

Sam comes barging through the door yelling “Dean! Dean?” and goes straight to his side, but Dean waves it off. Even as he’s doing this, Sam’s pretty sure he hears his name through a smile, but he can’t be sure.

Once he calms down and lies back again, the three of them just sit there, and it’s awkward as hell, but nobody can think of anything to say.

_“Mortem obire.”_

The boys both look at him in surprise. Cas has never minded a silence. He would let one last for days if they didn’t force him into conversation, and yet he just broke a silence, offered up a contribution like a sacrifice.

_“Mortem obire,”_ he says again, since they’re both staring at him like he’s just grown another head.

“Gesundheit”, Dean answers, coughing a bit. Even now, he can’t help but be a smartass.

And Cas smiles, actually smiles down at Dean. Sam’s confused but knows enough to keep quiet, and so Cas continues.

“It’s Latin. _Mortem obire._ It means to meet one’s last day, one’s death. The Romans believed that when you were ready, you would go out and meet your last day, and then you would pass on, over the Styx.” He says it calmy, and then the ghost of a smile creeps into the corner of his mouth. “Although I do not believe the Romans did so in an Impala.”

And Dean’s face just lights up. He smiles so hard it crinkles his eyes, the beautiful eyes Cas has stared into for so long, and Dean reaches his hand out, taking Cas’ hand in his, finally. And squeezes it, and stares at Cas, still smiling, hoping he understands. When Cas breaks eye contact for the first time since they’ve met, Dean’s pretty sure he does. He keeps his hand in Cas’ though, just to make sure. He turns to Sam and with his other hand pats him twice on the knee, nods at him, and then the smile fades. It doesn’t disappear completely, but it doesn’t reach his eyes anymore. 

Neither of them move. They know that when one of them does, the other one will too, but Dean won’t. And they can’t handle that yet, just not, not yet. They sit like that with him for an hour, two, they lose track. Their muscles scream at them, but it’s nothing compared to the screaming in their minds, so they ignore them. Wait. As if that will make a difference, as if it might… 

It’s Cas who breaks the spell. He exhales hard, and Sam realizes he hadn’t breathed this whole time. That Cas was holding onto that air as well, willing that moment to not be over yet, because if it isn’t over yet, he can still interrupt it. But he finally realizes that’s not true. After so much time, and so much wasted time, he got five seconds. Just five seconds. The joy he feels over knowing that Dean felt the same way is eclipsed by his frustration that they didn’t figure this out sooner, that he could have had years together with Dean. And the thought of that, of all those moments that could have been, that should have been, they spark a fire in Cas that erupts, and suddenly he’s screaming and throwing things and he’s never felt anger like this before, never felt anything like this before. He knows he shouldn’t have feelings, shouldn’t be this invested in a human, but he doesn’t care, he’s not listening to his brain anymore, it’s done nothing but betray him, lie to him, convince him that he can’t tell Dean, can’t have him. He’s about to throw his fist through the window when he feels Sam tackle him.

“Cas! Cas, no! Stop!” He tries to grab Cas’ hands from punching, from trying to destroy everything he sees because Dean is gone and without him here the world is destroyed already, so what possible difference can it make? But Sam keeps grabbing his hands, and saying his name, and eventually Cas slows down, stops shaking with rage so violently it looks like a seizure. And Sam lets go, and collapses on the floor, sitting with his head resting on his knees, rocking slightly from side to side, as if shaking his head with his whole body, willing it to not be true. And Cas just sits on the floor across from him, staring at the bed, and hating the world more than he ever knew was possible.

In the morning Sam calls Bobby. It’s the hardest thing he has ever done. By the time the line connects he’s run his other hand through his hair half a dozen times, and he barely gets out “Bobby, it’s Sam. We’re in Pheonix and…and…” and he just can’t. He can’t say it because it would be true. But Bobby says he’ll be right there, and Sam and Cas sit on the floor, waiting, because they can’t imagine doing anything else. 

When Bobby walks in 6 hours later he looks at the two of them on the floor, sees how small and vulnerable they look, and he’s terrified. He hardly dares to, but he turns to the bed, and his face crumples. He lets out a sigh, almost a whimper, as he goes to the bed, looks at his boy, and runs a hand down his cheek, cupping his chin for just a second. That’s all he gives himself, because Sam’s still here and he needs him.

He turns back and sees Sam standing there, watching him, and then he sees him start to cry. He had held it in this whole time, but seeing Bobby there, seeing him makes it real, and he doesn’t know how to do this. He doesn’t know how to do this without his big brother. “Come ’ere son,” Bobby says gently, though it still sounds like a rusty order, and Sam collapses into his arms, and he’s so broken that Bobby actually has to support him, despite being at least a head shorter.

“Cas.” Castiel looks up, still fuming, still furious, but slightly more contained now, like he’s learning he can contain that rage without diminishing it. Without lessening the power of it. “Cas you too,” Bobby says, opening his arms, but Cas can’t. He doesn’t want to cry. He doesn’t want to have Bobby hold him. He wants Dean to hold him, and he can’t, and that’s all he can think about. 

“I have to leave.” Cas says, with a composure completely at odds with the inferno within him. Before either of them can say a thing he vanishes, but Bobby keeps holding Sam, keeps him standing, keeps him alive.

                                                                                                            * * * * *   


“You cannot do this.”

“Excuse me Castiel? Since when do you have any authority here?” She says it flippantly, almost like she’s trying to flirt with him, but there’s something in her voice, and Cas hears it, clings to it, exploits it.

“You cannot do this. I won’t let you.” It’s a simple enough sentence, but she shivers at the implications. 

“I’m sorry Castiel, but I don’t make the rules. I don’t always like carrying out my orders, but that is what they are. I had to.” She’s getting nervous, he can tell, even though she still saunters about, pretending this is any other interaction. True, he doesn’t technically have any authority over her business. But he has power, and he does have the authority to use it here, just not to affect her orders. He can affect her though. And the harder she tries to sound casual the more he is aware that she realizes that. That she sees the potential in him.

“This is not a negotiation. You cannot do this.” The third time he says it a bit more of that fire carries in his voice, and she knows that she can’t keep pretending he’ll go away.

“You know how it works Castiel. The only way to make a deal with a reaper is to offer your own soul, and since you don’t have one, and you can’t volunteer somebody else’s, I just can’t. And I know you don’t have the direct line to upstairs anymore anyway.” She sees the way he glares at her, boring deep into her with those eyes and that fire, and she honestly wishes she could answer differently. “I’m sorry.” 

“Take me.”

“Excuse me?” She can’t have heard him properly.

“Take. Me.” He growls, pulsating with rage.

“Castiel are you even listening? I can’t take you, I need a soul. You don’t have one, so it’s game over. There’s no other –” No. He can’t mean it. He can’t possibly…

“Take my grace.”

“Castiel, Cas, I can’t, I shouldn’t, I-” She softens ever so slightly, says his name with a tenderness mixed with fear, willing him to not mean what she knows he must.

“Take it and be done with it before I do something you’ll regret.” The words are broken and jagged as they rasp over her. And he stands there, looking composed at a glance, but she can see the flames burning behind his eyes, and knows that she has no choice. She’ll have to do this. There will be hell to pay, but no way will it be worse than saying no to him one more time. 

She sighs, walks up to him, and places her hands on his back. And suddenly Castiel is feeling the most excruciating physical agony. But it’s not enough to drown out the pain he’s already feeling, so he barely reacts. That’s when he can see her eyes grow wide, filling with terror. He should be screaming. He should be begging her to stop, trying to take back his deal. But he’s barely made a sound. And she knows that this is way behind her powers, beyond her understanding, and that she wants to be done with it as quickly as possible. 

She gasps from the effort once she’s done, once she’s standing beside him, burnt carnage cast about them, still a touch of smoke rising from his shoulders. “Castiel,” she starts, but he knows, and he turns to face her.

“We’re done here,” and he vanishes for the last time.

                                                                                                            * * * * *   


He reappears in the hotel room so suddenly that Sam and Bobby start. They’re sitting at the kitchen table. Both of them have beers they obviously haven’t touched, and evening light is slanting through the window. Sam’s dragging a hunting knife over the surface, with no purpose, just reveling in the slow, measured destruction of something that isn’t him, isn’t his family, and so he just looks at Cas for a moment, but he’s too angry and trying to keep it in so much that he doesn’t notice. But Bobby does. “Cas?”

He jumps up and reaches him just as Castiel collapses. Just as he starts vomiting blood and bile and more blood and soot. Bobby’s properly worried now, but he helps Cas to the bathroom, rubs his back, tries to coax him through this. He has no idea what the hell is going on, but Cas sure picked a hell of a time. 

Sam stands in the doorway, wanting to help but unsure what to do. “Cas?” But Castiel can’t stop, he just keeps shaking and heaving and it feels like his insides are on fire and like they’re trying to escape and he starts to wonder whether he might actually be dying.

“Ah hell, this is ridiculous, I’m calling an ambulance.”

Sam goes back into autopilot at this, and shoots back “Bobby you can’t, he’s an angel, remember? What the hell can an ambulance do?”

They hear muttering from inside the toilet bowl. Bobby wets a facecloth and dabs at Cas’ face as he asks him to repeat it. “Not….anymore.” He gets out, before he starts convulsing again. Bobby looks like he’s just seen, well, not a ghost, that don’t faze him no more, but Lucifer eating breakfast maybe, and he turns to Sam, who just shakes his head and the two of them look like they might snap if one more goddamn thing happens today. 

That’s when they hear it. The sudden gasp of air filling lungs that were never meant to be used again. Sam reacts first, running towards the bed before Bobby yells out “Sam no!” Sam freezes but barely. He looks at the bed and closes his eyes and opens them again, and yes, this really is happening, and – “Sam, wait.” 

How can he be so cruel? “Bobby, what the hell is the matter with you? It’s a goddamn miracle, and-“

“Exactly.”

“What?”

“Boy, have you forgotten your job description? Miracles aren’t good. They’re usually fucking awful. Get the holy water.”

“But Bobby, it’s Dean!” 

“SAM! I won’t say it again.”

Bobby hates himself for doing this, but he knows he has to. Knows that they’ve had one too many free passes and there’s no way it was this easy. Sam sighs exasperatedly but reaches for the duffel with their supplies. That’s when Bobby sees Cas crawling across the floor. He tries to stop him, but Cas keeps going, crawls right up to that bed and looks up at Dean.

“Hey Cas.” And after having witnessed supernovae and comets and the beginning of life itself, it’s quite simply the most beautiful thing he’s ever experienced.

“Hello Dean.” He answers, and finally collapses completely.

                                                                                                            * * * * *   


“Cas, you with us?” He tries to open his eyes, but they hurt. It feels strange. It…feels. So does the rest of him. It hurts to move. He tries it again. It hurts even more. It’s strangely wonderful.

“Cas?” He finally pries his eyes apart, lifts the lids he never knew could feel so heavy. How can the density of a tiny amount of skin change just because – but suddenly his mind goes blank. He’s looking up into Dean’s face, and it’s his again. It’s warm and glowing, and as he manages to start a grin Dean smiles until his eyes almost disappear, and they twinkle back at Cas full of light and energy and life. Life.

“Cas, what happened?” Dean asks gently, and slowly Cas realizes Bobby and Sam are there too. Then he realizes Dean has his hand claspsed between both of his. And he suddenly thinks he might throw up again, but then realizes this is a different feeling in his stomach. He isn’t entirely sure what it means, but he’s fairly certain he isn’t about to vomit.

“You came back.” He tells Dean, who just laughs at that.

“No, I know, thanks tips. But what happened to you? Are you ok?” Dean is looking at him with so much care, so much concern. He knows he made the right choice. Would do it again if he could.

“You really freaked us out, Cas.” Sam. He smiles at Sam, but turning his head makes his vision malfunction, and he scowls. 

“Easy, it’s ok” and Dean is running his thumb along the top of Cas’ thumb, and suddenly it doesn’t matter that he can’t see right now. 

“Boy, you better explain yourself right now.” Bobby still is suspicious, wants to know exactly how this happened, and what it cost. He’s also ecstatic, but he can’t show it, someone around here has to do their goddamn job. “Why were you sweating? I thought angels didn’t sweat?”

“They don’t.” he whispers, still feeling weak. 

“Cas…” Dean leans closer. “Cas what do you mean ‘they’?” Cas looks at him, then closes his eyes again. Dean silently prays, please don’t let this mean what he thinks it means. “Cas what the hell, man? What happened?”

“I’m not an angel anymore. I’m human.” He says it as if he has just observed that Dean’s wearing plaid. As if this happens all the time and it’s no big deal.

“You, you what?” Sam asks, sitting on the foot of his bed just like he had on Dean’s. Cas thinks that maybe this means Sam thinks of him as a brother, and he feels slightly warmer. Then he realizes he was extremely cold before.

“May I please have a blanket?” he asks. They just stare at each other, trying to follow this insane conversation.

“Of course Cas, anything you need. Sammy?” And Sam grabs a blanket and places it over Cas, gently, but Dean doesn’t move his hands, and Cas realizes pleasantly that they’re still resting on his chest, holding his hand there. Safe.

“I am human now. I lost my grace.”

It slowly dawns on them.

“Cas,” Dean moans, horrified and touched and so confused. “You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t do this?”

“I had to, it was the only way.”

“But why? Would on earth would you do that?”

“Because Dean,” Cas answers, so tired, but carefully enunciating each word. “How could I go on any other way?”

And there are tears in Dean’s eyes and he hears Bobby mutter “holy shit” but that doesn’t matter because Dean’s kissing his forehead and touching his shoulder and he has that feeling again in his stomach. 

“Just get some rest, ok?” Dean looks so happy and sad at the same time, Cas is a little confused, but he thinks he’s more happy than sad, which means he made the right choice. Of course he did. He meant it, there was no point to eternity anymore, now that he had experienced an infinitesimal fraction of it with Dean. He wants to be here, with Dean, with all of them. He never wants to see a supernova again if it means he can fall asleep with Dean holding his hand.


End file.
